


The Lady of Tenebrae

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Ignis, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Game, sap, spoilers for entire game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: Now there are no daemons to hunt. The world is rebuilding and people are starting to believe they have futures that don't involve darkness and despair. Gladio and Ignis talk endlessly about the state of affairs for the people of Eos, but never about what's on their own horizon.When Gladio’s trips away start up again, with no discernible purpose, Ignis finds his ever-analytical brain drawn to the notion that Gladio is now seeing horizons that he can't; horizons that more than likely don't include him.Written for Gladnis Week Day 5 prompt - marriage.





	The Lady of Tenebrae

**Author's Note:**

> I make no apologies for the blatant sappiness of this fic. With Episode Ignis around the corner, I figured we might need it. <3 
> 
> This story is dedicated to the Gladnis Girls, especially Way who produced the beautiful prose from Ignis's favourite book. Thank you for your help, hon. You ladies know who you are and that I love you dearly. May 2018 see us all continuing to tell stories about these beautiful boys.

Gladio is definitely up to something.

It's difficult to pinpoint exactly how Ignis knows, but once he becomes aware of his own suspicions, the proof keeps mounting up. Since the dawn broke, none of them are hunting any more, so there's no obvious reason for Gladio’s trips away from their home in Lestallum, especially the ones that last two or three days. When he's home, there's nothing to suggest that anything’s wrong in their relationship - Gladio is the same as ever, neither withholding affection nor overcompensating out of guilt for some unknown indiscretion.

The logical, sensible part of him, that raised Noctis to be king and kept the four of them on track while the world went to hell in a hand basket tells Ignis to just _say_ something. There are plenty of opportunities, but somehow he can never bring himself to start that conversation. He’s not stupid - he knows exactly why they talk about everything, from the new world that is being shaped around them to the weather and the movements of their friends, but never about what’s on his mind - it's fear. Fear that Gladio may have had a change of heart about their relationship. Fear that the other man is going to leave.

It often keeps him awake into the early hours. Even the nights when they've worshipped each other with their bodies, professions of love bookending the familiar sounds of intimacy. Even then, Ignis has still lain awake afterwards, worrying that a day will come when Gladio announces that his heart belongs to another - maybe a woman who can bear him children, or a man without his disability, who can appreciate Gladio's beauty. Or maybe even just a person who doesn't remind Gladio of the past, of everything he lost and sacrificed just for the world to exist.

He tries to picture his life without Gladio in it, but that future is bleaker than his life as a blind man. When he pushes himself to consider it - he's a strategist and a realist, after all, so he must consider all outcomes no matter how painful - he oscillates between panic and terrified resignation. He can't make Gladio stay if he doesn't want to be here. Yet to initiate a conversation where Gladio might tell him exactly that is too dangerous. He's not prepared to be the architect of his own downfall. Not when the stakes are so high. So he accepts his cowardice and continues to worry.

As much as Gladio swears it's not, his blindness remains that sticking point in his anxiety. He worries that Gladio is only staying out of a misguided sense of duty or pity. Conversely, he worries that even though he is as demonstrative as he knows how to be with his feelings, Gladio might think _he_ is only staying because he views Gladio as someone who will help him when needed - a guide dog in human form. It's not true, of course. When Noct disappeared into the crystal, Ignis’s first instinct was that he needed to focus on regaining his independence, instead of clinging to those whom would take care of him so that he didn't need to. He achieved this by throwing himself into training, in preparation for Noct’s return, to regain what he'd lost and modify his skills to suit his new condition.

Gladio, however, had been utterly resistant. _We’ve lost enough_ , he'd say, sometimes angry, sometimes in a voice that had pleaded for Ignis to give up this flight of fancy. _I can't lose_ _you too, Iggy_.

For a while it had worked. Gladio would distract him, bringing ingredients to their cramped apartment in Lestallum and encourage him to rediscover his love of cooking. And although he'd never deny that it was good to get back in the kitchen, it was impossible not to feel resentful that Gladio only advocated remastering skills that didn't involve fighting daemons, with that bitterness deepening every time the subject came up about relearning to fight and Gladio dutifully shut it down again.

Eventually though, Ignis did relearn. Gladio was busy hunting, sometimes being away for days on end, so his objections proved easier and easier to ignore. When others didn't dismiss his desires so readily, he found willing sparring partners, gradually remastering how to track opponents without sight and use his weapons against them. It had been exhausting and frustrating, and many times he'd had to considered the prospect that Gladio was right and the goal was insurmountable. But he'd kept on, and the day Gladio conceded that he was no longer a liability in the field may as well have been Ignis’s birthday. So they hunted and saved as many people as they could until Noct returned.

But now there are no daemons to hunt. The world is rebuilding and people are starting to believe they have futures that don't involve darkness and despair. Gladio and Ignis talk endlessly about the state of affairs for the people of Eos, but never about what's on their own horizon.

When Gladio’s trips away start up again, with no discernible purpose, Ignis finds his ever-analytical brain drawn to the notion that Gladio is now seeing horizons that he can't; horizons that more than likely don't include him.

He's starting to sense that others are noticing this shift too. Iris is also living in Lestallum and Prompto visits regularly from his own base in Hammerhead, and when Ignis indirectly broaches the subject of Gladio’s absences with them, he gets responses that feel evasive almost. He tries to tell himself he's reading too much into it, his lack of vision hindering his ability to interpret the subtleties of communication. But when he tries again with Iris, he knows he's definitely not imagining her determination to get away from the topic and onto different matters.

OoOoO

He's pottering in the kitchen one morning when Gladio announces his next trip. Up until that point, the day had been shaping up to be a pleasant one, but the prospect of another event that will stand between them rather than drawing them together creates a pit in his stomach that swallows every last bit of that earlier contentment. Worse still, Gladio says he's leaving at first light.

“Oh?” Ignis answers, fingers deftly moving across the work surface to locate the spoon he'd put down and promptly lost track of the moment Gladio said he needed to go away for a few days.

“What is it that requires your attention so urgently?”

“Uh, I dunno exactly. Something Cor wanted me to help him with.” Gladio’s voice drifts from behind him, where he's seated at their kitchen table. He sounds slightly distracted, like he's talking whilst still reading the day’s paper, a rustling noise confirming Ignis’s suspicions. “It's not a problem is it? We ain’t got any plans.”

“No, no it's fine.”

It's _not_ fine. Blaming Cor for these excursions seems to have become Gladio’s default excuse recently. Using Cor, he can attest to not knowing where or why he's going, or how long he'll be gone for. It's very… convenient.

“Iggy?”

He jumps slightly, not realising that Gladio has left his seat and has approached until he's directly behind him. Gladio’s hands slide around his waist, drawing him into that broad chest. He breathes. Gladio is his _home_ , but for how much longer he doesn't know.

“You okay? You've gone all quiet on me.”

Ignis sighs, allowing his head to fall back onto Gladio’s chest. He figures he may as well be honest.

“I just hate you being away. Naively I suppose, I believed the trips would be fewer once the dawn broke and the daemons were vanquished.”

This is the perfect opportunity for Gladio to say _I won't go_ or _why don't you come with me_ , but he does neither. Instead, he pulls Ignis a little bit closer, drops a kiss on his head and says, “It should only be for a couple of days.”

That night they make love. They have an active sex life, but there's always a very different vibe to it when they're about to part. The pace is slower and every kiss is imbued with the desire to make this count. Even though the world is no longer the relentless threat to life that it once was, there is still that sense of urgency, to leave nothing unsaid, when they are about to spend time apart.

In the morning, Gladio prepares to go. From the moment he wakes, it's obvious he's in a good mood, moving around the apartment and whistling as he packs his bags. Ignis makes them both breakfast, working silently in the kitchen as he listens to the sounds of someone who is clearly happy to be leaving.

When Cor texts to say he's arrived and waiting in the car, they go to the door together. Gladio drops his bags at his feet and takes Ignis into his arms. Everything about the embrace feels genuine, and in that instant Ignis decides he's being ridiculous; Gladio loves him and there is nothing to be read into his departure. But once the door closes, it's easy to start thinking otherwise. Gladio’s presence takes up space, not just physically. Ignis feels it keenly every time Gladio leaves, even though he makes a point of keeping busy so he doesn't dwell on how their apartment feels too big without the other man.

That evening he dines with Iris and Talcott. He enjoys their company enormously, and it's a pleasant evening, with equally enjoyable food. Talcott has got plans the following day, so he heads off early, leaving Ignis and Iris to finish the wine. They chat about a range of topics, but it's inevitable the conversation will turn to Gladio at some point, and it does.

As it had the last time, he senses Iris’s growing discomfort as the conversation stays on the topic of her brother. Her tells are subtle; she picks up and puts down her wine glass a little more frequently, but when he asks a question, it's clear she’s using the action to stall and give her time to consider her answer carefully. And maybe it's the wine talking, but he figures he's finally done with being controlled by his fears.

“Do you think Gladio loves me, Iris?” he asks. Seated at a table in the restaurant courtyard, the city is alive around them. He loves Lestallum, thought Gladio did too.

“Of course he does!” she says, sounding slightly affronted. “Why would you ask that?”

He fingers the stem of his own wine glass. “Maybe that wasn't the right question. What I _should_ have asked is, do you think Gladio wants to be with me?”

“Ignis, I don't understand why you're asking me this. Of course he does! Gladdy loves you.” Iris sounds sincere and part of him hopes that her genuine shock is a reflection of how wide of the mark he is with his suspicions. “Did you have a fight before he left?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” he replies, before deciding to continue. “But he left.”

He can sense Iris’s frown. “He's helping Cor with something, isn't he?”

“I _believe_ that's what he told me he's doing. I have no way of knowing how true that is.”

“Oh, Ignis,” Iris exclaims sadly. “You can't think Gladdy’s cheating on you?”

He opens his mouth to issue a denial, but to do so would be disingenuous. Instead, he says, “The alternative is Gladio is accepting these trips because he no longer wishes to be with me and it is easier to spend time away than come out and say it.”

“You're wrong,” Iris says with surprising fierceness. “Gladio loves you and wants to be with you. I know it.”

Ignis waits to see if she is about to say anything else. When she doesn't, he nods. He wants to be reassured by her response, but Iris is Gladio’s sister and - sibling fealty aside - she’s an _Amicitia_. Loyalty is their watchword.

“Believe me, Iris, I pray every single day that I'm wrong.”

Somehow, they manage to move the conversation onto less controversial topics. With the wine gone, they conclude their meal with coffees, pay the bill, and head home. Iris links his arm as they walk through the streets of Lestallum. He can negotiate familiar territory without assistance, but sometimes it's nice to just defer to someone else so he doesn't have to be constantly vigilant for unexpected things in his path. When they reach the apartment, Iris hugs him and presses a kiss to his cheek. Her place is only one street over, so she refuses to let him walk her there, even though it offends his chivalrous inclinations every time this happens.

“Goodnight, Ignis,” she says. “Please stop worrying about Gladio. You're his world.”

OoOoO

Ignis keeps Iris’s words close to his heart for the duration of Gladio’s absence. He tells himself that when Gladio returns, he's going to say what's on his mind, because letting things fester clearly isn't doing him any good. He doesn't know if Iris will say anything to her brother, but he knows this is a conversation they need to have, whatever the outcome.

Gladio does call, as often as he says he can for the four days he's away. The final time he calls, he sounds so alive and happy Ignis wonders for a moment if he's speaking to the over-excitable Prompto instead. Gladio promises he'll be home tomorrow, lunchtime at the latest, and that they're going out in the evening. Naturally, Ignis asks why, but Gladio tells him he has to go and can't give him the details right now. Before he does, Gladio says in that low growl that creates a stirring in Ignis’s groin, that he can't wait to be home, an innocuous statement which implies so much.

Ignis awaits Gladio’s return with uncharacteristic nervousness. He tries to keep busy in order to expedite the passing of time, but it's impossible to prevent his mind from dwelling on their relationship. Gladio speaks of love, Iris says her brother is true, but none of it takes away from the fact that Gladio keeps leaving, with no real explanation about what he's doing while he's gone. Ignis doesn't sleep well that night. If he goes ahead with his plans to confront Gladio, tomorrow will be judgement day for their relationship.

He tries to ignore the death knell that rings in his imagination.

OoOoO

Gladio arrives back at the apartment just before eleven. As always, it's possible to hear his approach as his boots clump up the stairs before they stop abruptly as he begins looking for his keys. On the other side of the door, Ignis smiles at the cursing that accompanies the search, before he comes to the rescue and opens the door.

“Now that's a nice sight,” Gladio says, grin apparent in his voice. Gladio steps into the apartment and they embrace. The scent of the other man feels calming, and it hits him again that he considers Gladio his home just as much as the bricks and mortar around them.

“Welcome back,” he says. His hands slip from where they're weaved into Gladio’s hair, round to that strong jawline. As always, Gladio stands patiently while he completes this exploration. Once he's finished, Gladio catches his hands and kisses them soundly.

“ _Gods_ , I missed you,” Gladio breathes.

“And I, you.”

He can feel Gladio's eyes on him, roving all over, although what they're searching for he can't be sure. Gladio’s love feels so genuine that for a moment he doubts himself for ever thinking that Gladio doesn't want to be with him anymore.

“Are you hungry? Can I make you some lunch?”

“Uh yeah, that'd be great,” Gladio replies, before he steps away and disappears into their bedroom, presumably to dump his bags. “But I just gotta go out to sort a few things first.”

Ignis stills. Gladio has been back mere _minutes_ and yet he's making plans to disappear again? He holds back on asking what Gladio could possibly need to do now because he's tired of this game. Gladio reappears just as quickly and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Make lunch and I'll be straight back, okay?”

And then he's gone again, leaving Ignis right back in that position of uncertainty.

Once he's alone, Ignis processes this whole exchange, analysing it word by word, action by action. Gladio still carries that energy he'd noticed during their last phone call, which intrigues and concerns him as to the cause. Something or someone related to his trips away has brought about this noticeable positivity.

In order not to dwell, he decides to throw himself into making lunch. Just as quickly he realises that in order to make the meal he'd planned, they need some more bread. He can get down to the market and back quickly so he locates his wallet and heads out. As he gets to the bottom of the stairs and reaches the front door, he realises that he can hear Gladio’s voice on the other side of it. There's no second voice when he stops speaking, so Ignis can only presume Gladio is on his phone.

“Yeah, I know,” Gladio is saying, and it's clear his earlier good mood has evaporated due either to the topic of conversation or the person to whom he's speaking. “I'm gonna do it. Tonight, okay?”

Time seems to freeze, along with the blood in his veins. Ignis stands for a moment and listens as Gladio’s footsteps move away, off down the street to do whatever it was he said he needed to do. Once a safe amount of time has passed, he heads out himself to buy an ingredient for a meal that he almost certainly won't be able to stomach.

OoOoO

Despite his belief that he won’t be able to maintain that façade of normality, the meal passes without incident. Gladio appears to be back in that brighter mood, although, now he's aware there's definitely something afoot, Ignis realises there's a nervousness there that is uncharacteristic of the other man. Several times over the afternoon, Ignis goes to say something himself, but an appropriate opening just doesn't appear. When he questions their plans for later, Gladio refuses to give him any real detail other than to say this evening is important, that they need to talk. The phrase sends a slick sensation of cold chasing up his spine, but he masks his expression by turning away to busy himself in the kitchen.

As the evening draws near, Ignis agonises over what to wear. It feels foolish to make an effort to look desirable when it appears that Gladio is presumably preparing to say goodbye, but something within him - the stubborn, determined part of him that survived the loss of his sight and everything that came after, wants to at least give Gladio a reason to regret what he's letting go of.

He dresses in a soft purple shirt, so dark it's almost black. He only knows it by touch, but he also knows the effect it has on Gladio. The small skull pendant rests at his throat, highlighting the tantalising ‘V’ of flesh. He teams the shirt with a pair of black slacks - he has several pairs but this is no random choice. These are the ones that hug his backside, the ones that Gladio almost ruined once in his determination to get them off quickly. A calculated choice, just like the shirt.

Gladio is waiting in the living room when he emerges from their bedroom, fully dressed. He can tell the moment the other man looks up from the way his breathing changes.

“Wow, Iggy,” Gladio says, the creak of the couch indicating that he's stood up. “You look amazing.”

Large hands slip around Ignis’s waist, pulling him close. Gladio’s face moves to his neck, nose nudging aside the collar of Ignis’s shirt so he can press his lips to the flesh. Ignis closes his eye and inhales deeply. He wonders if he'll remember Gladio’s scent when he's gone, or whether it'll slip into the void between real and imagined in the same way as Gladio’s appearance has done in the years since he went blind. His hand comes up to curl in Gladio's hair, grabbing a thick handful. Ordinarily, he'd use the purchase to keep Gladio close, but now he pulls on it gently, until the other man’s head is forced to go with it.

Gladio makes a disgruntled noise, deep in his throat.

Ignis smiles. “Dinner, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

Together they head out into the balmy Lestallum evening. Ignis brings his cane; he doesn’t always use it when he’s out with other people, but he doesn’t actually know where they’re going… and if he’ll be leaving alone. He’s certainly not about to accept Gladio’s assistance getting home if the worst should happen, because he wants his dignity intact even if his heart isn’t.

If Gladio is wondering about his decision to bring it tonight, he doesn’t say so.

They make sporadic small talk as they walk. Ignis tracks the turns they make, until he's pretty sure where they're heading. The restaurant is his favourite, but can be almost impossible to get a table at, not to mention the cost. He tries to tell himself that this isn't Gladio’s attempt to soften the blow.

“We’re here,” Gladio announces as he pulls on the door.

“The Quillhorn. Very nice.”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a male voice says from just up ahead. “Please allow me to show you to your seats.”

They ate here once, before Altissia, so Ignis has a basic mental map of the place that he utilises as he follows Gladio and the maître d’ across the room. He realises quickly where they're heading, and unless anything has dramatically changed since the last time they dined here, Gladio has _seriously_ pulled some strings tonight. Out the back of the restaurant, there is a small private dining area with one solitary table. It has spectacular views over the gardens, which, admittedly he can't enjoy anymore, but there's the sound of a small stream and scents from the shrubs and flowers are carried on the breeze, so it's still a heavenly place to enjoy a meal. How Gladio has secured it for this evening is beyond him.

Ever the gentleman, Gladio seats him first and then relieves him of his cane. Someone, presumably a waiter, approaches once they're both settled.

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Dominicus, I will be your waiter for the evening. It's a pleasure to welcome you to the Quillhorn’s private terrace. Anything you require, please just say.”

They both thank him and then Gladio thanks him again, presumably as he's handed the menu.

“Sir, I apologise that we don't have a Braille version to give you; would you like me to tell you what's on the menu?”

“That's very kind, thank you.”

Ignis listens patiently as the waiter lists the dishes for the first course, and then, once he's decided, goes onto describe the main courses. He selects a seafood risotto as Gladio opts for the Garulessa steak. They then choose the wine - red for Gladio and a crisp white Chardonnay for himself that will complement his meal perfectly. Dominicus then leaves them alone.

Ignis inhales deeply. The scents from the gardens are wonderful and in his mind’s eye he pictures the view from the terrace, the lush green foliage and the gentle sounds of water he can hear in the distance.

“I wish you could see it,” Gladio says softly. “After that first time we came, I knew I wanted to bring you back here, to have the terrace to ourselves. I figured we’d have the opportunity to do it once Noct was married.”

“Life has a funny way of derailing our plans. Still, we’re here now.”

“You're right. D’you want me to describe it to you?”

“Please.”

Gladio talks for the next couple of minutes, pausing only when Dominicus brings the wine. He paints a picture of their surroundings that allows Ignis to create an image in his mind. Gladio is well-practised at this; he needs no questions to prompt further detail as he ensures that Ignis knows exactly what's out there, as well as where it all is placed.

When the first course arrives, the conversation is mainly about the food. It's a subject Ignis enjoys, as does Gladio even though the other man will jokingly pretend to others that he has little interest in anything beyond its consumption. Over their main course they talk about Iris and Talcott and Prompto, who is finally pursuing his passion for photography. It's easy to slip into talking about other people’s business, since there is no real danger of heartache.

Yet despite the excellent food and the easy conversation, the need to broach the subject of Gladio’s absences weighs heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Eventually, Ignis can bear it no longer.

“Gladio…” he begins, not sure where to go next. Before he can proceed though, Gladio sighs.

“I know you’ve got something you want to say, Iggy, but let me go first, okay? See how you feel about things once you know why I wanted us to talk. Maybe you'll feel differently.”

His instinct is to say no - like if he goes first it will somehow mitigate the devastation Gladio is about to unleash - _if_ that's what he intends to do. Now, he's not so sure. He thinks of Iris, so confident of Gladio’s love for him. After a moment, Ignis nods, his lips pursed in a thin line. “Very well.”

Gladio doesn't speak straight away. When he does, it's fair to say it's not what Ignis is anticipating.

“Tell me about the first time we met. _Properly_ met, I mean.”

Recovering quickly from the unexpected question he says, “You mean you can’t remember?”

“Of course I remember; I want you to tell me.”

Ignis lets his mind drift back. “It was in the library at the citadel. I thought you must be lost,” he adds dryly.

Gladio gives an undignified snort. “And?”

“And you very kindly helped me reach a book that I couldn’t get.”

“Because you were so short,” Gladio adds helpfully.

Ignis makes a face, knows it’s payback for his own jibe. “I was due a growth spurt. I'm not that much shorter than you, you know.”

“You know your hairstyle doesn't count, right?”

“Hilarious, Gladiolus.”

Gladio laughs. There's a pause before he then says, “Do you remember what the book was?”

“Of course; it was _The Lady of Tenebrae_. You told me you didn't understand why a soppy love story was so popular. I was incensed that you were so disparaging about my favourite book.”

“Do you remember what you said?”

“Indeed I do. I told you it wasn't the superficial, contrived claptrap you believed it to be; that it told the story of a lady who chooses her own path, defying everyone’s expectations and living a worthwhile life, far removed from the one intended for her. I told you it contained a valuable lesson for us all when we consider what we want from life.”

“I remember that lecture well. I was struck by how passionate you were about it. So what did you do then?”

Ignis smiles. “We became friends and I read it to you, whenever we had any free time.”

“You did. You brought those words to life, Iggy. I grew to understand why you loved it so much and then I grew to love you. I looked forward to every moment we shared while you read it to me.”

Ignis nods in response, in full agreement with those feelings. “I treasure those memories.”

Those days seem a lifetime ago. The rush of discovery of feelings reciprocated. Once they’d finished _The Lady of Tenebrae_ , they'd found other stories to read, both of them enjoying the opportunity to relax and enjoy each other’s company in this way, not wanting it to end. But none of those books held that special association for them, because it was at the culmination of _The Lady of Tenebrae_ , that Gladio had kissed him for the first time.

For once, time has been kind, never eroding the memory of Gladio's face during that encounter, despite the passage of years. Ignis thinks of it now; how Gladio had moved from where their legs were tangled together on the sofa, his expression betraying his fear and uncertainty as their lips had met, hesitantly at first; how Gladio's features had softened in relief when he realised he wasn't about to be pushed away; how his own heart had hammered in his chest at the realisation that his wildest dreams were coming true.

He misses those days, when the weight of their responsibilities had felt much more manageable. He misses those hours spent alone with Gladio. But the truth is he also misses reading and the escapism that came via the pages of a good book. When he lost his sight he vowed to learn Braille and he did, mastering it with dogged determination and countless hours of practice, but the reality is with so many places destroyed there are few regular books left to read anymore, let alone titles for blind people. The books he has managed to find, he's hoarded possessively, but it's a limited selection - a sad state of affairs for a bibliophile like himself.

“I treasure those memories, too,” Gladio replies, drawing him from his thoughts. “Which is why I did this.”

There's a sound, a rustling noise of something being removed from a bag, followed by Gladio’s chair scraping as he pushes it back. Gladio then comes to stand beside him. There's a touch on his arm, directing him to turn over his hands and hold them out. He does as instructed and finds something placed there, its weight unexpected. With the table cleared of their plates, Ignis places the item down so that he can inspect it better. It’s large and slightly rectangular in shape and he quickly identifies it as a book. Moving his fingers across the cover, he finds the raised dots which have become so familiar to him. Ignis finds the start and works his way across, from left to right, his breath catching in his throat when he realises what he's reading.

_The Lady of Tenebrae_

“Gladio,” he gasps, “how have you…?”

Gladio takes hold of his free hand resting on the book’s cover and squeezes it gently. The contact grounds him, allowing him to take in Gladio’s response.

“I met a guy on a hunt a few years back. He was originally from Insomnia, but became a refugee after the fall. We chatted about what we did before and I found out he'd been a printer, but he was also qualified as a Braille typist. I told him about you, that you’d lost your sight in service of the crown.” Gladio squeezes his hand again. When he continues, his voice is rougher.

“I told him that I loved you more than life itself, and I hated that I couldn't do anythin’ to fix your sight. He made me promise that if we all survived long enough for the world to find its feet again, then I should look him up. He wanted to repay me for saving his family. He couldn't give you your sight back either, but there was somethin’ he _could_ do for you.

“So I found him again, almost a year ago, living north of Meldacio. As soon as he saw me, he reiterated what he'd offered, said he still wanted to repay his debt. But first, there was the matter of collecting his equipment. And I needed to find a copy of what I wanted translating. I knew right away what book it had to be.”

“So your trips away…” Ignis says, as it all falls into place.

“Yeah. The first thing I had to do was find a copy of _The Lady of Tenebrae_. I found that back in Insomnia, at the citadel. I like to think it was the same one that brought us together.” Ignis can hear the smile in Gladio’s voice as he says it. “But the Braille printer at his old shop was badly damaged. He told me what I'd need to find in order to fix it up. He then set to work translating the book.

“So I've travelled Eos,” Gladio explains, “I refused to give up, until I had everythin’ he needed. A while back he managed to get the printer up and running. A few days ago, he called to say it was ready.”

“A labour of love,” Ignis says softly, running his free hand reverently across the book’s cover.

“It was.”

Ignis shakes his head. “I don't know what to say, Gladio. When you took to disappearing, I assumed that you no longer loved me, or maybe you'd met someone with whom you'd rather be with.”

“I'm so sorry, Iggy.” Gladio brings Ignis’s hand to his lips and kisses it soundly. “I never meant for you to worry. I just didn't want to say anythin’ about the book in case I couldn't make it happen. I wanted it to be a surprise and for everything to be perfect.”

“And it is. Gladio, I'm truly speechless.”

Gladio straightens up, still holding his hand. “We can go down to the gardens... Would you read some of it to me?”

“My delivery may not be as fluent as before, but I'd be honoured to.”

They walk, hand in hand, down the stone steps and into the gardens. To have this cloistered space within a congested city like Lestallum is like something out of a fairytale. The sound of gently flowing water grows louder as they approach the small stream that bisects the garden. He remembers Gladio’s description of an ornate bridge, but they don't cross it. Instead Gladio guides him to the ground where, he discovers, a blanket laid out in readiness.

“Is there anything you didn't think of?” Ignis asks, smiling, as he settles on the ground and places the book down beside him. Gladio joins him, so that their hips are touching.

“I hope not,” he replies. “I found somethin’ else on my travels too.”

“Oh yes?”

He hears Gladio moving, then his hands are guided to hold something. It's a bottle with a long tapered neck, ostensibly wine. He uses his fingertips to explore it, frowning when he hits something familiar. He circles the raised crest with his fingers a couple more times, wanting to be sure.

“Gladio, is this…?”

“Solheim Blue,” Gladio confirms. “The last bottle in Eos. Probably.”

Ignis shakes his head unable to quite comprehend what Gladio has done for him. His favourite wine, presumed lost forever, just like his ability to read _The Lady of Tenebrae_.

“Gladio… this is so perfect. I don't know what to say.”

For a moment Gladio doesn't respond. When he does, he sounds somewhat nervous.

“I… I was hoping you’d say...  _yes_.”

Ignis frowns as Gladio pulls the book into his lap. He hears the pages being turned until the shifting weight on his thighs indicates that Gladio has gone all the way to the back. Guided by Gladio, his hands find a small pouch on the inside back cover. He finds the fastening and pops it open. Inside is a card, with more Braille. He removes the card and lies it flat. As his fingers glide over the familiar bumps, he mouths the words to himself, pulse quickening as he realises what he's being asked.

_Ignis will you marry me?_

Surprised, he raises his head to turn toward the man who’s asking the most important question of his life. In his mind’s eye, he can see Gladio’s face, hopeful and expectant, but also apprehensive as he awaits the answer.

Ignis places the card down and reaches for Gladio’s hands. He's rarely stuck for words, but everything that's happened over the last couple of hours, combined with the worry he's experienced over the last few months has stolen his voice. When he finds it, its pitch is more reminiscent of Gladio's.

“The answer, Gladio, could only ever be yes. My heart has always been yours, and will continue to be yours until the end of our days. Maybe even after that, if there is someplace we reunite with our loved ones after death.”

Gladio exhales - a noisy sound that says he was waiting for an answer before he let himself breathe again - and then he pulls Ignis in for a hug, large hands grabbing handfuls of that soft purple shirt. When they finally move apart, their lips meet for a tender kiss, even though they’re both still smiling. Gladio strokes his cheek and laughs.

“Damnit, Iggy. I can't believe how nervous I am.”

“You thought I might say no?”

“No…. I dunno.” All of a sudden, Gladio sounds sad. “I tried not to think about what would happen if you said no.”

Ignis lets out a long sigh. “I'm sorry if it's felt like I was pulling away from you over recent months, Gladio. When your trips started up again with little explanation, I began to think your feelings for me must have changed. I was confused because I never got that impression from you when you were here, but, well, I didn't know what else to think. I suppose part of me has always worried that you might feel like you had to stay with me out of pity.”

“Ignis,” Gladio says, aghast. “I could _never_ pity you. You need to stop thinking that way, okay? You being blind doesn't matter. What? You think I'd go off with someone just because they could see?”

“Or possibly give you children,” Ignis confesses. “At those low points when you were gone, I considered a range of scenarios and tried to shore myself up against the prospect of any of them being true. I never… I never considered it could be this,” he says, gesturing to the book.

“I'm sorry,” Gladio says. “I never intended to cause you to worry.”

“No, please don't apologise, Gladio. This is perfect, believe me.”

“Not quite.”

Ignis frowns, to which Gladio adds, “that little pouch where you found the card? It was supposed to have a ring in it.”

“A ring?”

“For years, Dino has heard rumours of some pure mythril and he finally found a location. I said I'd go get it for him if he gave me a small share and made a ring for you. I was going to go in the next couple of weeks, but then Iris told me you'd been talkin’ about how you thought I might not love you anymore. I didn't want to leave it any longer.”

Their hands entwine again. “I'm sorry my over-active imagination spoiled your plans, Gladio. I shouldn't have said anything to Iris.”

“I'm glad you did,” Gladio replies fiercely. “I hate that I was hurting you. The others knew what I was trying to do, but Iris told me I needed to act now or risk losing you altogether.”

Ignis smiles and brings his other hand to rest upon their clasped ones. “It's forgotten. Might I make one suggestion though?”

“Sure.”

“I think we should go to find that mythril together. If it's as pure as Dino says, then I'm sure he'll give us a little more if we secure it for him. Two rings would be perfect, don't you think?”

Gladio huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah, Iggy I reckon you're right.”

Gladio reaches up and tilts Ignis’s chin toward him for a kiss. It's slow and deliberate, lips brushing each other softly, no vying for dominance or intimating that it should lead to anything more. It's kissing for kissing’s sake, two people in love, sharing in the excitement of the new road ahead.

Even when they stop, they don't move apart, instead bringing their foreheads together. Ignis lifts his hands up to touch Gladio’s face, wanting to see the man the only way he can. He works slowly and deliberately, allowing himself to love and feel loved as he appreciates Gladio's beauty. Gladio sits patiently, the only movement the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinks. When Ignis reaches his mouth, his lips curl into a smile that causes Ignis to do the same.

Eventually, reluctantly, they pull apart. Slowly, the noise of their surroundings filters back to their awareness, sounds of a perfectly imperfect world that they have helped to shape. Ignis thinks of Noct and wonders what he would make of the union of his shield and his advisor. Somehow, he thinks Noct would approve.

“Right,” Gladio says, drawing him from his thoughts. “Can I pour you some wine?”

“I'd love some.”

He hears the clink of glasses, followed by Gladio working a corkscrew, all necessary items immediately to hand. It's evident that Gladio has spent significant time preparing this whole evening, and he hopes it's everything has Gladio dreamed of.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

The wine is _heavenly_. He inhales the spicy bouquet, allowing his memories to drift to the past and all the good events he associates with it.

“It's been so long,” he sighs happily.

Next to him, Gladio is also making appreciative noises.

“Mmm, I can see why you love it, Iggy.”

Ignis smiles, deliberately teasing. “I believe I've always had excellent taste.”

Gladio laughs at that, evidently seeing the compliment for what it is. “That's definitely somethin’ we’ve got in common then.”

Ignis laughs too. He takes another sip of the wine, enjoying its smoothness. He turns toward Gladio once he’s done.

“So, would you like me to read to you?”

Gladio breathes, a quick inhale. “I'd love you to.”

Ignis hold out his wine glass for Gladio to take. Once it's gone, he settles the book on his lap again and turns to the first page. He hasn't read for a while so he wonders how rusty he'll be, concerned that the beauty of the prose will suffer. On the other hand, he knows the story so well - there are still certain passages he could recite by heart - so his memory should be a powerful ally for his fingertips.

As he runs his fingers experimentally over the first few words, Gladio shifts on the blanket, moving so that he's lying down with his head on Ignis’s legs. The familiarity of that position causes a rush of nostalgia that makes Ignis’s heart beat a little faster. He reaches down and gives Gladio's cheek a tender brush before his fingers return to the page. Gladio’s eyes drift closed as he adjusts his position slightly.

“Comfortable?”

“Yup.”

“Very well then. _The Lady of Tenebrae_ , Chapter One,” Ignis announces, his voice strong and true as he ghosts across the raised dots.

"To attend the tale of heroes is merely to open one’s ears. The soft melodies of their daring feats twine in the ether, capturing the awareness of the entranced listener. The lady’s story is not much different than most, but it is hers and hers alone. It is a tale forged in iron, indelible as a blade…"

  
**End**

 

 


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